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Saturday, February 25, 2012

Yep, it's Friday in America. Only in Green Valley ghetto one has no way to measure the end of the work week....everybody's retired! We all just keep on keeping on. Stores are as busy as they usually are, gas stations as crowded as 'old geezers' try to figure out the coin machines that deliver gasoline - kind of like using a slot in Vegas or on the Reservation. Put the money in and get nothing in particular except a few extra miles on the 'family truckster'. It's always a gamble.

Now, you just know I don't really identify with those 'geezers'. I know how to use the coin machines, except, of course, yesterday at Costco when I forgot my pin...I have a pin? On which credit card? Dementia..oh shit..dementia strikes again and I didn't get my discount. Oh well, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

Two more days near the Mexican border and we begin the long journey north to Canada..temps up there just below freezing today and tomorrow and tomorrow..hopefully, winter doesn't choose to do her worst during our days of travel, but knowing our luck probably she'll spring a surprise or five before we arrive home.

Hopefully, I'll remember the way on the yellow brick road - the road north.

Monday, February 20, 2012

It's hard to come home. So much changes every time I leave my native shores. I'm not so sure the country itself changes. More like I change and find it more and more difficult to cope with the fear, resentment, and control that is the American ambiance.

In Oz I have a sense of security that simply disappears as soon as I cross the border into California, which is one of the more relaxed states in the 50 that make up this country.

I actually sat with people in discussion this morning who claim to love their country and want to destroy China because in some corner of their minds China threatens the stability of their own country. I feel such sadness upon hearing such phobia mixed with the arrogance that sometimes manifests as the American way of being on the planet.

In fact, the primary feeling is simply one of embarrassment that folks whom I love feel this way.

And then to add injury to insult, (I know that's backwards) when I tried to check into my motel tonight, I was told that unless I had government issued identification, I could not check in. I asked 'What if I have no a driver's license?'

'Passport will do.'

'No passport?'

'Any government issued identification is ok. But without that identification, you cannot check in.'

I'm still fuming. What kind of country is this? What kind of freedom do we have in this fascist ambiance?

Not much...not much at all.

And so, I am about to flee the 9 million folks who live in this 'land of opportunity'..and head south and then north to a place where my friends all know someone and they can vouch for me if I don't have my identification in my wallet on any given day..

I so wish I were south..way south..where identification is not necessary to live and love in the city.

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

smooth landing at LAX, jet engine poetry in hand, found the right rental car bus, scurried on a freeway where we were the only vehicle traveling at 65 mph, passed by every other car on the road, had a good night's rest and are on our way to pick up Black Mariah in Ridgecrest this morning.

Saturday, February 04, 2012

Bags are packed, ready to go, just waiting for the plane to leave the tarmac..so to speak

Tomorrow at 8:30 we depart the house which is no longer our house - all that we love most is packed away in plastic boxes, surrounded by bubble wrap or protected by moth proofing.

No longer does it feel like home; I can't imagine how folks who live in hotels all their working lives manage. How can they feel comfy with everyone elses stuff but none of their own surrounding them. Clean, neat, smells good, and empty of any history..a house is not a home, a lived in environment full of memories, stacked with goodies representing funny, frustrating, amazing, boring life experiences is a home..